The Perfect Picnic
by callthemoonbeam
Summary: Patsy and Delia enjoy a hike and a picnic in Cape Town, sometime during their mysterious S7 travels.


Patsy bent over, breathing hard, as she watched Delia skip up the path ahead. It had been her suggestion that the two of them take a picnic up Lion's Head peak, but she hadn't quite factored in how heavy a picnic was, when you put it all in an adorable little basket and carried it up a mountain. It had also, she realized with the ache in her thighs, been quite awhile since her daily miles-long commutes on a bicycle through the cobbled streets of Poplar. Patsy had never really been one for activities that made her sweat through an even layer of Pan Stik, but Delia made the effort look positively easy.

"You all right, cariad?" Delia came flouncing back down the trail, scooping her arm through the basket's handle. "Let me take that."

"No," said Patsy, a little too quickly. "I'm perfectly all right." She put on a smile. "Just catching my breath."

They stumbled a few feet further along the trail before coming to a sheer rock wall stapled with bare metal handles. _Summit ahead_ , reported the paint fading into the rough surface. Patsy took a deep breath. Delia was already halfway up.

Patsy checked for the umpteenth time under the flap of the basket, reassuring herself the little box was still there.

"Hand me the basket, Pats, and you can use both hands to climb up," Delia called.

"Er-one moment, Deels," Patsy replied, bending over the basket, her hair wild in the wind. She tucked the little box into the pocket of her dungarees and straightened up.

Hoisting the basket into the air-damn those extra pears, she thought-she followed soon after, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid looking down at the dizzying sight below.

"Take my hand, love." As she opened her eyes, Delia's face, tan and freckled from the Cape Town sun, was nearly close enough to kiss, and Patsy gratefully took hold of her hand. Delia's grip was strong and reassuring as she pulled Patsy the last few inches to the summit.

"I chose this place because I thought we'd have a bit more privacy," Patsy sighed, "but now I think of climbing all that way back down again, I almost wish we'd gone for the cable cars on Table Mountain with all the other tourists." Delia intertwined her fingers in hers and leaned in to soothe Patsy with a kiss. "Almost."

Delia turned away, scrambling to every edge to marvel at the view. "No, this is spectacular, Pats! It's a perfect place for a picnic." She sighed happily, stretching out on the blanket Patsy'd laid out, and helping her to unpack the basket, stuffed full of all their favorite things-even a bottle of Chenin Blanc sweating nearly as much as Patsy.

They ate happily, relaxing in the breeze off the sea. Delia sank back to lean against Patsy, eyes closed to the afternoon sun. Patsy inhaled her scent, glancing around before stealing a kiss off the top of her head.

"This was the perfect day, Pats," Delia sighed.

"Nothing could have made it better?" Patsy asked, trying to hide the anxious tinge in her voice.

"Not even chocolate," Delia replied, hooking her pinky into Patsy's. "I will be glad to see everyone in Poplar again after the month is over, but I can't imagine being happier than I have been, on the road with you."

"Me too." Patsy squeezed her hand, stroking the back with her thumb. "I love you, Deels." It was almost a whisper. She cleared her throat and sat up slightly. "Which is why, well… Erm, I thought you might like this."

She removed the velvet box from her pocket and, catching sight of it as her weight shifted behind, Delia shrieked.

"I think the custom- Deels, would you mind standing?" Patsy said as she took a knee and opened the box. "I don't care if it isn't allowed yet. I don't care where we end up, or how we get there, or if the rest of the world considers us spinsters. I just care that I get to do it with you, Deels."

"Pats-"

"Will you take this as a promise that I'll always find my way back to you?"

"Oh, Pats-" Delia was tearing up, her hand in the pocket of her dress, something glinting in her fingers as she knelt down. "Yes, of course, you wonderful fool." Patsy gasped, then burst out laughing, as she saw what Delia was holding. They exchanged rings, settling back down to watch the distant waves and the seabirds soaring high above. "I was worried you might think it frivolous, that I'd bought a ring like this if-you know." Delia chuckled. "I should have known, you old softy."

Patsy grinned, her dimples standing out against cheeks flushed with sun and excitement. _I've always known_ , she was about to say, when a grunt alerted them to the old man pulling himself over the edge of rock to the summit.

"Up ye get, Lizzie!" His wiry, weathered hand reached down to hoist his wife up the ledge. "Hello, ladies, fine day for a hike, eh?" The man turned to the girls, who had leapt apart at the sound of his arrival, as his wife dusted off her khaki shorts.

"That it is, sir," Delia beamed.

"Delicious looking feast you've got there, is it a celebration?" He asked, approaching them with the good nature of a man who could sit down and tell you hours of stories if you weren't careful.

"It is, in fact," Delia responded, toying with the ring on her finger.

"We're both, erm, quite recently engaged," Patsy blushed, holding up her hand as proof.

"Two lucky young chaps they must be! Now, do I sense a Welsh accent on you, young lady?" The man pulled a questioning face, twirling his white mustache.

"Harold, leave these two in peace!" His wife interrupted, smiling widely at the two young women.

"It's all right," Delia replied, "And your husband has a good ear-I'm from Pembrokeshire."

"Well, congratulations to you both," the old woman winked. "And enjoy your stay in Cape Town!"

Patsy smiled as Lizzie led her husband away. She didn't think it was impossible to enjoy Cape Town, or life, for that matter, any more than she already had. But as Delia beamed, incessantly, packing up the remains of their picnic, and Harold laughed loudly at something Lizzie said, she imagined one day hobbling after Delia on some country path less treacherous than this one, having spent a lifetime enjoying her company, and thought that maybe it could be possible.


End file.
